


Orpheus

by airdeari



Series: self-indulgent aoilight within [5]
Category: Zero Escape (Video Games)
Genre: Anxiety, Incredibly On-The-Nose Allegory, Infodumping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 10:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airdeari/pseuds/airdeari
Summary: “D’you ever feel like,” Aoi finally began, speaking directly into the duvet to muffle the sound of his voice, “everything you’ve got is just… it’s so impossible that it’s real, like if you stop to look at it, it’s just gonna go up in smoke?”He wished he had not chosen that expression. He said it without thinking. Then he smelled the hot, pungent air of the incinerator after it went off.





	Orpheus

_He knew that bone could never be stronger than metal, that his hands would only break themselves pounding against that iron door, yet he threw his fists at it anyway, through the pain of his knuckles bleeding, maybe shattering from every impact growing stronger and more desperate than the last. He could not feel the pain. He could only feel her. His body meant nothing if he could not save her._

_He could not save her._

_An arm wrapped around his chest and pulled him back from the ashes scattered across the floor. He fought against it, surged forward, but those tiny scraps of her body were empty and lifeless, and so was he. He became dead weight against that arm, feeling its warmth, but feeling so, so cold inside._

_There was something so terribly wrong with this world. It simply should not exist. She had to be alive._

Aoi woke up with a little gasp.

Usually he fared better when he felt himself waking up, when he recognized the division between nightmare and reality, but this time everything was still running together. His heart was still racing, throbbing in pain with every beat for a sister who was dead—alive, he had seen her live to twenty-three years old—dead, the door to the incinerator closed and she was gone when it opened again—alive, he had saved her life, she was okay—dead, he had heard her screams vanish in the roar of the fire. Maybe it was because of the light that seared into his eyes when they shot open. Maybe it was because he picked up the bottle of pills in his quivering hand, but put it back down with taking anything, even as his head jittered inside a body made of lead, ready to twist and turn his thoughts into tornados of doubts.

“Are you alright?” Light asked, plugging the rubber knob into the socket below his shoulder.

Aoi flinched, slamming the medicine cabinet closed. “Fine,” he responded too quickly.

“You’ve been… quiet tonight.”

He sighed and scratched at his hair. That was not all he had been. Light deserved an excuse for why he shied away from touches, offered only his cheek to kisses, and gave brusque answers to lighthearted questions.

“I dunno, I’m… off,” he mumbled, crossing his arms. “Like… bad, off. It’s… it’s bad. I dunno.”

Light lifted his head slowly to Aoi, his face suddenly gaunt with concern.

“Jesus, it’s not—it’s whatever,” Aoi stammered, crossing his arms even tighter. “I’m fine. It’s just—it’s just a shitty night for no reason, y’know? Whatever.”

“I know I don’t present myself as a very emotionally available person,” Light said, “but if I can help in any way…”

“‘I don’t present myself as a very emotionally available person.’ Jesus Christ. No shit.”

“We’re standing in the same bathroom in our pajamas after brushing our teeth at the same sink.” Light smiled weakly. “One would think we would be better at communicating our feelings by now.”

“I haven’t had a feeling since I was fifteen years old,” Aoi grumbled.

“Yes, using humor to deflect. I’m also a fan of that technique. Please, Aoi…” Light’s face grew stern. “I care about you.”

Those weighty words drew a heavy sigh out of Aoi. He thought about words he could say to start the conversation, but none of them would come out right away. Light was quiet, patient. He sat up against the headboard of his bed, folding his knees to his chest. Aoi flopped his weary body face-down into a large portion of the remaining space on the mattress.

Light had never expected Aoi to share the bed with him, which Aoi appreciated immensely. It was too often that he had these spells of disliking physical contact, and both of them had sad excuses for sleep schedules that never aligned. Having the sofa bed to himself was more comfortable, even if Light’s mattress was physically softer, which he had found out as of late during these evenings spent hanging out in Light’s bedroom, chatting or just coexisting.

“D’you ever feel like,” Aoi finally began, speaking directly into the duvet to muffle the sound of his voice, “everything you’ve got is just… it’s so impossible that it’s real, like if you stop to look at it, it’s just gonna fuckin’ go up in smoke?”

He wished he had not chosen that expression. He said it without thinking. Then he smelled the hot, pungent air of the incinerator after it went off.

“Mm, like a modern-day Orpheus,” Light mused.

“Orpheus?” Aoi repeated.

“Oh, surely you’ve heard that story.”

Aoi lifted his head. “I think I know the name, but I don’t remember what he did. Mythology, right?”

“Yes, Greek.” Light had a wide grin. “Orpheus, an Argonaut, renowned for his—”

“What’s an Argonaut?”

“You don’t know the Argonauts? Jason and the Argonauts?” Light frowned and folded his arms. “They were sailors on a ship called the Argo, on a quest for the Golden Fleece. It’s a bit of an Odyssean journey, but there were _such_ highlights. One of their early adventures was to the Isle of Lemnos, I believe it was called—regardless, a fascinating place, where the women were neglectful in their worship of Aphrodite, so she chose to punish them with the curse of exceptional body odor. All of their husbands took concubines because they couldn’t withstand the stink but also couldn’t survive without a steady supply of sex, it would seem, and in revenge, the women killed all of the men on the island. Along comes Jason and his strapping crew of Argonauts, who evidently have no qualms about the stench, because they spawn enough illegitimate children with these foul-smelling women to merit calling the numerous offspring a new race, the name of which I unfortunately can’t recall at this time, though I do believe it was _Heracles_ , of all people, who thought that the Argonauts should quit their philandering and get a move on.”

There were probably more highlights to the story, but Aoi did not remember them because, he now realized, he had fallen asleep on Light’s bed to the sound of his voice.

He woke from a dream of being dragged out of the incinerator to feel that same arm still wrapped across his waist. Despite having felt touch-averse all night, he was sedated by the warmth enveloping him, by the slow and steady rhythm of breathing against his shoulder. His heart was racing, and he could not figure out if his sister was alive or dead, but there was Light, holding him close.

He was not breathing right, he was sure, so he listened and felt for Light’s pattern, copying it until the pounding in his chest slowed to something bearable. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the ugly ceiling light, hugging Light’s arm against himself, repeating a mantra not because he believed it, but because he wanted to force his body to get back to sleep, where he could stop considering the possibility of the alternative. She was alive. She was alive. She was alive.

The ceiling light was not helping.

Slowly, gently, he slid his hands underneath Light’s arm, lifting it just enough to slink out of his soft embrace. Light stirred just as Aoi looked over his shoulder to admire the young man at rest—his face relaxed, his soft hair in elegant disarray, his body limp, legs slightly bent to cup the space where Aoi had been.

A crease marred the porcelain skin along his forehead as he lifted his head, eyelashes fluttering. His arm floated upwards, hand open, reaching, as his dry mouth whispered Aoi’s name like a desperate plea.

Aoi’s heart pounded again.

“I’m just turnin’ off the light,” he mumbled.

“Oh.” Light’s hand fell back to the mattress, followed by his weary head. “The light was… still…?”

Aoi did not turn off the light just yet. He leaned over the edge of the bed, combing the errant strands of hair away from Light’s face, and kissed the crease in the center of his forehead.

“Go back to sleep, babe,” he murmured.

Light did not protest to being called _babe_. He got a dumb smile on his lips that he did not have the energy to point at Aoi.

Aoi moved slowly through the darkness to join him on the bed, wiggling his way up to the pillows. Light offered him the edge of the disheveled duvet, and Aoi blanketed them both with it. He expelled a sigh as he cupped Light’s face with both hands, thumbs crossing over from his smooth cheekbones to his lightly stubbled jawline, and back. He felt Light’s gentle smile growing broader under his fingers, and how his head shifted slightly with the movements of his body as he breathed. Aoi wanted to sink into that calm state, to get rid of this anxious jittering running under his skin.

He lowered his head to Light’s shoulder, pressing his cheek to his neck. “Orpheus,” he said. “What’d he… why were you…?”

“Mm, his wife.” Light’s words, slow with sleep, ran together. “He’s the one who… entered the Underworld to bring his wife back from Hades… said he could take her, if he didn’t look back… He couldn’t resist, and…”

“She disappeared, right?” Aoi whispered. “Turned around and she was gone.”

As long as it had been since she had escaped that incinerator, tears of fear and joy mingling in her round eyes, Aoi still felt he’d wake one day to find she was nothing more than ash.

“But you’ve long since left the Underworld,” Light said. “Bartered with the devil and claimed your victory.”

He remembered the moment they reunited outside of the incinerator for the second time. He was dragging along the devil by the collar of his shirt, a gun pointed to his head. They looked each other in the eye for the first time in nine hours, and smiled as they sighed in unison. After nine years, it was finally over.

“All’s set in stone.” Light’s arm wrapped snugly around the small of Aoi’s back. “She’s alive.”

Aoi fell back to sleep so soon after that, he did not feel the kiss that Light pressed to his hair only minutes later.


End file.
